Meet Me at the Cabaret
by Anomilee1
Summary: Everyone knows that Steve is a relentless soldier and once he accepts a mission, he will not rest until it is completed and he has set right a wrong that he feels was done. What happens when he finally gets a chance to apply his steadfastness to his personal life? He unknowingly sets one of his teammates and himself out on a "blind mission".
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Sooo, I don't own these characters individually or as a team. Also, this could be a one shot or not. Depending on everyone's response and rather or not I can think of anything to go along with this plot. I'm rating it T just because I don't know where its going. Oh and FYI, SPOILERS for Cap 2 ahead.

* * *

It was an unusually warm mid October evening. The city was, as always, alive and buzzing with people and lights as everyone tried to make their way home from a late day at the office or out to their long awaited, end of the week social appointments with family, friends, or random strangers they had decided to go on a blind date with.

The seven figures walked leisurely down the side street after climbing out of the millionaire's luxurious transportation for the night. They had all tried to convince him to just use a few of his...normal cars... for their nightly transportation, but since it was his idea that they meet up for a night out he had not so graciously declined their request not to draw too much attention to themselves as they just wanted to enjoy a low key evening out with friends. He had kindly replied that nothing he did was low key. Besides, he had let the good captain pick the venue, he should at least get to pick everything else. After all, it was to celebrate him finally being able to make it back to New York and have his tower completely up and running again after that adopted demigod with the sibling inferiority complex had tried to destroy it with his army of miscreants. Yeah, things were finally starting to become more normal for him. And he was glad to be able to spend some time with his friends again, even if they all weren't able to make it.

"So what have you been up to?" the archer asked the red head, who smiled before replying.

"Oh, nothing much. Just hanging around in D.C., regulating things," she smiled again, causing him to smile back at her.

He was happy. And right now that mainly stemmed from seeing a genuine smile on one of his best, and oldest friend's face. Especially after she had been so broken with everything that had happened in the last year after she, the captain, and the falcon had taken down Shield or Hydra or...it didn't matter. He still wasn't quite sure what had happened even though they had explained it to him more than once in five different ways from the view points of five different people. Well he understood, he just had a hard time accepting the fact that he had been used as a pawn in aiding the very people he had been trying to destroy, though not as hard a time as Natasha.

He had seen her on television during the press conference. She had called him the day prior to update him on all that had happened as he would be just as personally affected by it as she was. To the untrained eye, the woman was cool, calm, and collected. But he had known this woman for years, he could see the cracks in her facade. And that scared him, because even he could rarely see wrinkles in the normally flawless armory of the black widow. He had called to check on her, and she had stated that she was fine. She had just exposed, to the entire world, all the things that she had been trying to hide and distance her self from and now she would forever be tied to those very same despicable deeds. For alot of people, her name would not be able to be mentioned without them linking her to all of the bad she had done. Thankfully though, there were still a lot of people that also remembered the good she had done, and being a part of the avengers definitely didn't hurt. Everyone remembered what happened in New York, even if they didn't quite understand it. She had fought along side the beloved Captain America, Iron Man, who the civilians seemed to be obsessed with, the mysterious and intriguing demi god, and the big green guy that kicked alien ass all over New York that day, even if he managed to destroy a few buildings in the process. They loved the two spies just as much, especially Natasha. The men really just didn't give a damn what she had done in her past and would be happy to die as a result of being caught in her web, and a lot of the women admired her for being the bad ass femme fatale of the team showing that she could hold her own with the boys. But still, she had been spiraling.

He had tried to get back to her, but with all of their covers blown, him being so far away during the time SHIELD had fallen, and her pushing everyone, including himself away, there was only so much he could do. So he had left his dear friend in the capable hands of their captain. He had called to ask Steve to keep an eye on her until he was able to make it back because she didn't sound like she was faring too well. He had confirmed that she wasn't but had also gone on to tell Clint why the woman shouldn't let her past consume her and how he would not allow her to let this destroy her. Clint had smiled, he was put at ease by Steve's words. If the man said he was going to do something, he was going to do it. Even if that meant likely getting himself killed by The Widow herself for pestering her and making her accept human interaction when all she wanted to do was be left alone with her own destructive thoughts. He had then grown a little more worried, but not for Natasha.

But he had kept his head low and had been able to make it safely back into the states a few months later, and surprisingly, Steve was still alive and Natasha had not locked herself in her apartment and boarded up all the windows in an attempt to simply cease to exist. Things were still not great, but they were not as bad as he would have expected it to be. Steve was still going strong, hammering away at the walls the red head kept trying to put up. He could tell that she was frustrated with him, but she seemed to be on a downward slope on her want to kill him. He assumed that had peaked that night Natasha had told him that she had entered Steve's apartment while he was asleep and stood over him wanting so very badly to use one of her now dusty weapons on him, but she had gotten her wits about her and climbed back quietly through the window, without him even knowing. Or so she thought. He had voiced his concerns to Steve and told him that maybe he should back off a little. The soldier had told him that he had known the spy was there, to which his mouth fell open. No one knew where Natasha was unless she wanted them to know. Maybe she was out of practice, since she was no longer doing missions consistently. Steve then went on to explain that when you are fighting a war against someone you have to get to know that enemy inside and out, even better than they know themselves to effectively have the upper hand. And the enemy that he had been fighting to save Natasha those last few months was the spy herself.

He had responded with a "Wow." Then he realized that this was why their team worked so well. With all of the abilities that each one of them possessed, someone else on the team had a way of minimizing one of the many ways that they could be a threat. Giving them all a more even playing field in relation to each other. That and the fact that they had all grown to respect each other, and also had some sort of weird dynamic or feelings towards each other that made them all a little uneasy at times. He was sure it was just probably the feelings that came a long with a stable friendship or family type setting, but still, it was new for most if not all of them.

They finally made it to the entrance of the building. It was nothing fancy. A red brick building with a single red door, manned by no one on the outside. "Are you sure this is the right place?" the good doctor asked, breaking from his side discussion with Agent Hill to address the group. He was unsure. The placed looked a little sketchy and the big guy did not do sketch very well.

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "This doesn't exactly look like the place you told us about."

"If you ruined this night for me Rogers, I swear," Tony threatened. "If I've put on one of my good suits for a bunch of drunks and has-bins, we are going to have a serious problem."

"This is it guys," Steve told him, pushing his way to the front of the group to get to the door no one else seemed interested in opening at that time.

It was one of the clubs that had been opened back in the 1940s. A nice little cabaret that had been really popular and drew a lot of attraction from tourists and locals alike. It was the first place that had popped into his head after being told he had been given the privileges of choosing the night's venue. Sure, he had not been allowed to go in back in the days, especially since everyone then thought he was a twelve year old little boy, but Bucky had managed to get them in on a few occasions by wooing the women that were working the doors every so often.

"Here," he said opening the door, "see for yourself."

He allowed them all to enter before stepping in behind them. A smile instantly appeared on his face as he took in the entire site of a place the represented a world that made sense to him. Everything had been preserved almost just as it was, maybe slightly updated, when they used to sneak in to watch the shows and steal a few drinks when possible. There was burgundy velvet, high back bench like seating lining much of the walls in the viewing areas, with dark wooden tables in front. There were extra large burgundy leather ottomans placed strategically around the room and circular tables of various sizes with a few squared tables with chairs, all the same colored dark wood. The floors were completely wooden, though lighter than the tables and chairs. The theater lights embedded in the high ceiling along with the table lamps surrounded by a red casing blended with the stage light to give the place just the right ambiance. The bar was closer to the entrance, and then on the adjacent wall, towards the front of the place was a large, red wood stage with a large wooden grand piano to the left and burgundy velvet curtains lining the back drop.

"Nice," Maria said in awe, drawing Steve's attention away from the venue and back to his friends. He saw a huge smile of appreciation on Bruce's face, and Tony's jaw was almost on the floor. Everyone one else wore smiles similar to Bruce's. Then his eyes were drawn down as he was hit it the chest by a mass of long, rich red curls as the woman standing just in front of him turned suddenly to face him. The bright red lipstick drawing his eyes directly to her plump red lips as they turned up into a smile. His eyes darted back to here eyes as she began to speak.

"Oh, nice choice Cap," she said teasingly. "Glad to see we haven't completely extinguished your 40's taste." She leaned in a little closer causing her body to push up against his a little, making any outsider think that something more might have been going on, but it was just that they had grown so comfortable with each other that they often didn't even notice how that may have appeared to others. She whispered, "And I think Tony and Clint really appreciate the female staff." He looked up to see the two men ogling one of the waitresses as she passed by with a tray full of drinks in her tight little bustier and short skirt, thigh highs, and heels.

His smile grew wider at the look on their faces. Natasha laughed, then grabbed his hand. "Com'on." she led them to one of the larger circular tables with chairs surrounding half of the table and the other half having a semicircular velvet bench as seating.

"Man this place is really nice," Sam said hitting him on the back. "I always new the olden days had some nice spots, but this is something else."

Tony cleared his throat, "I'll be the judge of that." He then turned around and stopped one of the waitresses going by. "Uh Miss," Natasha and Maria rolled their eyes as he took a second to give the young woman a once over before finally speaking again. "Can we get bottle of your best whiskey."

"Yes sir," the young woman told him before he continued.

"I'm serious, don't hold out on me. You are going to make or break my night depending on what you bring back to this table," the young woman laughed.

"Yes, Mr. Stark," she said in a more flirty tone, as she leaned in closer to him. "I'll make sure we bring out the good stuff from the back."

She walked away and Tony leaned back in his chair to get a good look as she retreated towards the bar. After the young woman was out of sight, he turned back to the group at the table. "Huh, she knew who I was." He said as if he was surprised.

"Tony, you have your name on the side of one of the largest buildings in New York," Bruce told him.

"Not to mention your face all over time square," Sam chimed in.

"Do I sense jealousy?" Tony asked to no one in particular.

"No, but you should sense me calling Pepper if you keep flirting with everything in a pair of heels," Maria chimed in.

He looked at her for a second before narrowing his eyes, "I'm not hitting on you or Red over there."

"Because you know better," the women said almost in unison.

Soon the young lady returned with seven glasses of whiskey and a half empty bottle that read Macallan 1926, causing Tony to sit up straight in his chair, before turning to her. "How did you get this?"

"You asked for the best whiskey we had Mr. Stark, and I promised not to hold out on you," she turned away from the table being sure to give Tony and Steve a nice full view of her backside, causing Maria to again roll her eyes.

"You," Tony said turning to Steve, "how do you know about this place? Are you some kind of trust fund baby or something we don't know about?" Steve laughed as lights dimmed a little more and a man sat down at the piano.

"Relax Stark," he told him. "Believe it or not this stuff wasn't nearly as expensive back in the day. As a matter of fact, the majority of the things you consider valuable today were worth very little value back in my day."

"Watch it Gramps," Tony said causing Steve to smirk and shake his head in disapproval of the term.

Everyone turned their attention to the stage as the master of ceremonies stepped onto stage, and easily began speaking over the soft sounds emanating from the piano on his right.

He bid everyone a good evening and introduced himself before telling them that they had a good show lined up for them but that they would also be having some open mic time where they would be allowing guests to come up from the audience and perform. He then proceeded to list some of the scheduled acts for the night while cracking a few jokes at the expense of the bar tender, the pianist, a few of the regulars and even himself. He then left the stage to allow the first act of a jazz trio to take the stage.

They all began having some side conversations while enjoying the live music and sipping on the expensive whiskey that Tony was still trying to figure out how the owner had gotten his hands on it. The second act was a duo of a man and woman singing _I've Got the World on a String_ by Frank Sinatra.

"This place is awesome," Natasha leaned over and whispered to Steve. "I really like the setting and all. Thanks for bringing us."

He smiled at her, "My pleasure Nat." He smiled as he saw her attention turn back to the stage and she began to sway back and forward to the music. He knew she would like it. He knew she liked this kind of music. He also knew a whole lot more about her, things that he would have never thought he would have learned judging from their first few encounters with each other. Sure they had initially taken kindly to each other on their initial meeting aboard the helicarrier but he knew right away that she was a very guarded and closed off person. He also, although not naturally that way back in the day, had become more similar to her in that manner after waking up in a 1940s apartment in the middle of 2011 Manhattan.

He and the black widow had spent a large amount of time together in the past year, and they had had no other choice then to let down a few of their own walls and break down a few of each others in the process if they planned on surviving it in one piece. They managed, mostly. He doesn't know where but somewhere between trying to prevent Natasha from offing herself, either actively from one of her pistols or passively rotting away in the corner of her apartment, trying to track down Bucky, and guiding them both back into a somewhat normal life after everything they found comfort and familiarity in had been stripped completely away from them for the second time in both their lives, she had lost some of her flare, some of the confidence that had made her Natasha Romanoff. She had lost that complete and utter confidence in herself no matter what she was doing or how she had to go about doing it. When he had brought this up, she had shrugged it off as if she didn't know what he was talking about. She had told him maybe he was thinking about Natalia or the Black Widow before sadly replying, they were both dead.

He had assured that the best part of them weren't but again she had shrugged, grabbed the pint of Ben and Jerry's and headed back to her bedroom. This is where he found himself most perplexed with their entire journey. He had finally gotten her to come out of her depressive state but what he hadn't expected was for her to emerge as this lack luster version of herself. It had gotten better over the past few months as he kept pushing her and with some advice from Clint telling him to take of the kiddie gloves now that the hard part was over. He had told him that if he wanted the old Nat back, he would have to do things that would make her come back to the surface. But the trick was doing that without tipping the Widow back into her state of personal despair. So with bated breath, he had taken Clint's advice.

He still remembered the look on her when he had initially put their plan into action.

_"What did you just say to me?" she asked him with a look of disbelief and agitation on her face. _

_"I said," he started in a cool and even tone, "I sure wouldn't want to be caught in a fight with you right now. You'd be more of a liability than an asset." _

_She stared at him with a look that said she was debating either retreating back into her room to sulk or to jump on him and rip off one of his appendages. _

_He walked pass her in a nonchalant manner, brushing his shoulder against hers and suppressing a smirk until his back was to her. She turned to watch him retreat into the kitchen, her eyes shooting lasers through him. _

_He had continued to poke and prod and push at her buttons until he started to see the old Natasha resurface. He still didn't remember what were the final words that had set her off that day when she finally started to come back to him. That was probably because the memory of whatever had happened just prior was wiped clear by the surprise of suddenly feeling his back collide with the floor as he stared up at the ceiling. He blinked a few times before realizing the red head glaring down at him as she stood over him in a fight stance. _

_"Natasha," he managed to spit out, "what the hell?"_

_"Don't even Rogers," she told him as she disengaged from the stance. "You deserved it. You've been shit talking for the past few weeks." Then she had walked out of the apartment leaving him there on the floor. _

"Holly hell," Tony said, bringing Steve back into the present. "She is smokin'."

"Yes she is," Sam agreed with a grin as all the guys eyes were drawn towards the stage.

"She's almost hotter than you Red," Tony decided to prod, causing Natasha's eyes to shift towards him. "Of course, not when you're in your widow suite. But you don't do that anymore so I'd pretty much say she has you beat."

"Shut up Tony," she scoffed at him.

"Don't worry about him Nat," Maria started, before looking back at the stage, "that bitch couldn't pull off my suit let alone yours."

The two women shared a smile. She loved being catty with Maria. They did it more as a dark humor type of deal more than anything but that just made it more fun. The two women had become best friends over the past few years. Natasha had gained some other female friends along the way, but she didn't have as much in common with them as she had with Maria. Well maybe except for Sif. Yeah, she liked Sif too. It was a shame that she was so far away.

"Whoa, and she can sing too," Tony started. "Puts your karaoke skills to shame doesn't she? Think she has any super powers?"

"Naw, I don't think she's as good as Nat," Bruce chimed in, just wanting to join the anti Tony's argument team.

"Thanks Bruce," she said giving him a smile.

"Well the next one is an open mic slot," Tony told her. "I'll leave you alone for the rest of the night if you go up there and wow me. Show me that you still have it in you to seduce any man into willingly climbing into your web."

She rolled her eyes at him.

"Now com'on Tash," Steve whispered using her newest nick name that only he used, as he leaned in closer. "I know you are not going to pass up an opportunity to shut Tony up so we can all enjoy the rest of our night."

She smiled at him, subconsciously biting her bottom lip. He continued. "Get up there and show him you still got it. Shut Tony Stark up. For me, please."

"I heard that," Tony budded in, but Natasha's eyes did not leave Steve's neither did his hers.

"Okay," she complied, "you asked for it."

She got up from the table and approached the side of the stage where she saw the master of ceremonies getting ready to climb back up on stage. The truth is she was a little afraid. She didn't know why, she had done this and similar things hundreds of times on missions and otherwise, but she didn't do missions anymore. And while she had gotten the battle side of the Black Widow to successfully merge with Natasha Romanoff, she was still having trouble merging the confident, seductive spy with the woman she had been forced to become. But thankfully, she had friends to lean on while she figured out how to put herself back together. One of those friends being Steve who even got on the blood and filth covered floors to help her find the pieces and then helped her hold the pieces in an acceptable form until the glue holding them together had dried and she was no longer at a dangerously high risk of falling apart again. Although she still felt pretty high risk at times. Those were the times when she would show up at is door at 3 in the morning with an unsure 'Hey', and he would just allow her entrance into his apartment and bed and she would cuddle up close to him soaking up his warmth as if she had to consume his life force in order to keep her heart beating.

She got an idea as she walked up on the stage after hearing the master of ceremonies introduce her.

He saw her go over to the piano player and whisper something in his ear. The man smiled at her and nodded, before turning back to his piano. The lights dimmed again as she approached the mic. Steve mused to himself. He took in the dark red curls which she had let grow out and now fell slightly below her shoulders. The red lipstick she wore accentuated her lips in away that he was sure just about every man in the room were staring at them. That is if they weren't staring at her curvy figure in the tight black dress she wore. It was a more modest dress, for this day and age he thought. The sleeves stopped right above her elbows and the neckline was a low cut v shape showing off a good amount of cleavage. The middle of the dress hugged her small waist before expanding some to stretch over her hips and thighs in what he had learned was a pencil shaped bottom. She had taught him that when she had caught him staring at a woman in the park wearing a skirt of the same style. He really liked the style, it reminded him some of the 40's in that it wasn't exactly pants, but it wasn't a mini skirt either. It was a modest style. But looking at Natasha on the stage, he was starting to think that the woman could take the modesty out of an over sized onesie jumpsuit.

The music started to flow from the piano as she closed her eyes, preparing to shut Tony Stark up, he thought.

She started to sing causing the few eyes in the room that weren't already on her to turn in her direction.

**_"It's not so easy, loving me."_**

Her eyes opened and immediately found Steve's across the room, as she continued. She saw the smile disappear from his face, as he looked like he had just swallowed a frog as a look of realization dawned on his face. She assumed that she had conveyed her message well enough. This performance was not for Tony. It was for him

**_"It gets so complicated, all the things you've gotta be. _**

**_Everything's changing, but you're the truth. _**

**_I__'m amazed by all your patience. All the things I put you through."_**

_"Well, this is awkward," she said drawing his attention to her. _

_The truth is, it was awkward. He was never supposed to find out about her real side-mission on their fake mission._

_He had confronted her and asked her what she was doing and why wasn't she at the planned rendezvous point. She wasn't able to pin point if he was more upset because he had been left in the dark, are because he was worried about her. But now was not the time to try to decipher the question. She was on a mission. She had pointed out to him that they were indeed different. They were a team, both needed for the mission, but also both needing individual motives to agree to accomplish said mission. She had had little time to relay this message, thankfully as she was not sure what she would say to the good captain in order to preserve her trustworthiness in his eyes, before Batroc barged in. At least she thought he trusted her. _

_The French criminal wasted little time after barging into the room. He quickly pulled out a small ball and tossed it in their direction. Cap with his abnormally sharp reflexes had blocked the bomb with his shield, swatting it away from them. He then turned quickly, to her. And she anticipating his next move and ability to save both their lives just grabbed on to him securing the physical attachment he had made as he wrapped his arm around her waist. In a fluid motion he jumped off of the side of one of the desk and used his shield and his body to protect her as he barricaded them through the window of a side viewing room in order to further protect them from the explosion. Her body, not having the perfected serum that his had, had felt more of the collision with the window and explosion than he had. Although she was sure he felt more of it than she had, he was just able to absorb it better. _

_"Okay, that one's on me," she admitted and accepted. _

_But he was not bought by her willingness to accept responsibility for what had just happened. "Damn right it is," he said before getting up and walking away from her. _

_She let out a groan of disappointment, frustration, and embarrassment as he walked away from her, though none of those emotions were directed towards him. She got up and followed him, wanting to apologize, but deciding against it in the end._

**_"And when I'm about to fall, somehow you're always waiting._**

**_Your open arms to catch me. _**

**_You're gonna save me from myself. From myself, yes._**

**_You're gonna save me from myself."_**

_"Steve please, just...," she started loudly before drifting into a whisper, "just go away."_

_She had been barricaded in her apartment for the last two weeks. She had eaten little more than stale cereal and spoiled milk, and molded bread. And truth be told, she was out of that a couple of days ago. She didn't have an appetite, simply put. People who didn't exist, didn't have a need for food. She didn't exist anymore, at least not in any way that mattered to her or made her want to get off of the floor in the corner of her living room next to the dark window with the black curtains, her head leaning on her right hand trying to stay focused in the small sliver of light that was somehow finding its way through. The human part of her was trying desperately to get some sunlight but the more conscious, depressed part of her brain forbade her from opening up the curtains or going outside. That side was currently calling her weak and berating he for craving the light source and not having ended it a long time ago. _

_'If you were really as strong as you claimed to be, you wouldn't have gotten so twisted in the head by them. If you were really that strong you would have ended it before they had a chance to get to you.' _

_"But I was six years old," the human voice in her head cried back to the monster tormenting voice mocking her. "I was only six." She was overcome with sorrow and guilt for that six year old little girl. Sorrow because she had hurt so much, and guilt because she had been too weak to stop it and save her. _

_The tears began to fall as she curled further into herself, sobs racking her. She had forgotten that Steve had threatened to break the door down and did not register the swift, yet strong hit to the door. She had not noticed him entering, but suddenly felt strong arms around her, picking her up off of the floor. _

_Instinctively she wrapped her arms around him and cried into the crook of his neck and shoulder. She hadn't even noticed it was him until he spoke to her, not that she cared. It could have just as well been someone out to kill her and put an end to her suffering, which would have been welcomed at that time as she was not strong enough to do it herself. _

_"Shh," he started as he passed his hands trough her lengthening red curls. "Nat, you're okay."  
_

_The truth was she was not okay, but he wouldn't leave her side until she was. If she had somehow gotten the courage to end her life during the next few weeks or months for that matter, she would have had to knock him unconscious before doing so as he was not gone from her side long enough for her to concoct and carry out a plan. Yes, he had taken all of her guns, and he had given up on his search momentarily, for his best friend. His best friend who had been held captive and brainwashed to become the exact opposite of himself. And for that she had felt even more guilty, but he told her that she was just as important to him as Bucky was. He had already loss Bucky and now had a chance to get him back, but he was not willing to lose her in that process._

_**"Ooooh, oh yeah,"**_ she continued looking him in the eyes as she began to sway her hips a little more to the music. She tilted her head to the side and looked down at the mic before pouting her lips and looking back at him through her long eyelashes. She saw him straighten up a little more in his seat.

His eyes flickered to the few others at the table to see if they were seeing the same thing he was. They all seemed engulfed in the performance that she had began putting on, and not wanting to miss a moment of it himself, his eyes were drawn back to the woman on the stage who had not looked at any other person in the room since she had began performing. He was sure, she would be in his lap giving him a personal dance had they been some where alone.

**_"My love is tainted, by your touch._**

**_Well some guys have shown me aces, _**

**_but you've got that royal flush._**

**_I know it's crazy, every day._**

**_Well tomorrow may be shaky, but you never turn away."_**

The smile on Tony's face gradually transformed into a look of pure curiosity as he realized their little red head was putting on a show specifically for someone in the audience. He would have said it was him, a show just to show him that she could still wow a crowed and place every man within eyesight under her spell, but she was not looking at him. His brows furrowed and his eyes narrowed. He began scanning the room. Who was she...?

His eyes feel on Steve and the smile completely faltered. 'No,' he thought. He then looked back at Natasha who was now all but molesting the microphone stand as she continued to put on a show for... His eyes quickly went back to Steve, who was staring intently at the stage and looked as if he had just got kicked in the chest by a horse. He then turned quickly back to Natasha and slowly followed her line of vision.

He let out an inaudible gasp. Captain America and Black Widow. What the hell had he missed while he was in Los Angeles? Oh someone was going to give him some answers. Right after Natasha finished spinning her web that no doubt had began drawing their virtuous captain to his death. 'What a lovely way to go', he thought to himself as a smile appeared on his face. 'Good for you Rogers.'

**_"Don't ask me why I'm crying,_**

**_cause when I start to crumble,_**

**_you know how to keep me smiling._**

**_You always save me from myself, from myself, myself."_**

_She didn't even remember how she had gotten to his door. She had left her apartment with all intentions of going for a run to clear her head of that voice. That pestering voice that would always question her about her personal life. 'Why are you doing this?' or 'Nat, really? Why are you listening to this person? What do **you** want?'_

_Yes, that obnoxious voice that she would always do her best to ignore and focus on her missions, as that was when it usually decided to rear it's ugly head. But lately there were no missions to distract her, and that voice had been becoming more prominent and more frequent. She had just gotten over wanting to actively cease to exist, but this voice was threatening to drive her right back over that ledge. _

_Everything between stepping off of her block and seeing his face as he opened his door to his apartment was a blur. Her run turned into a walk as the voice would simply just not let her focus on anything else. _

_"Nat?" his face twisted in concern. "What are you doing here this time of night? What's wrong?"_

_She hadn't even registered that her face was wet with tears until he reached out a hand a wiped away a few freshly fallen tears. She turned away from him. She did not cry, especially in front of other people...unless it was a ploy to get them to do what she wanted or give her the information she wanted. _

_"Natasha," he warned her in a slightly more stern tone, though still concerned as he picked up on the fact that she had realized a weakness in her wall and was trying desperately to build it back up. _

_She did not reply. So he reached out a hand, placing it on her elbow and pulled her into his apartment before closing and locking the door._

_"Talk to me, please," he begged her, standing in front of her and looking down at her smaller frame. _

_Why, why does he care so much? she questioned herself. You don't deserve people like him. The people at the Red Room suited you just fine. _

_The insulting thoughts kept coming as that obnoxious voice pleaded with them to stop. Then she finally realized that voice, it was her voice, well, sort of. It was her voice now, but it sounded blended with that six year old's she often mourned for. _

_She felt her body jerk, before starting to fall towards the floor, but instead, falling into something soft and firm. _

_She once again, felt her feet leaving the floor as she wrapped her arms around Steve's neck, crying onto his bare skin. This time he did not say anything, as he carried her into his bedroom, tucking her in on one side before climbing in on the other. He didn't have time to attempt to console her as she was buried into his side as soon as she felt his side of the bed shift from his weight. _

_Normally he would have been hesitant to climb into bed with a woman he was not married to, but this red head had intruded the sanctity of his full size bed a while ago. The first time, he had awaken to find the woman tangling her limbs with his, still in a peaceful sleep. He had not had the heart to wake her, knowing that she was in the midst of one of her insomniac phases. Though he did try to put at least a little distance between them, as he felt himself enjoying the feel of her body against his a little too much. But he was unsuccessful. The spy tightened her grip on him, forbidding him to stray too far away from her. He had smiled to himself, placed a kiss on top of her head, and fell into a deep sleep himself. _

_But this time, he felt himself a little emotionally of kilter as he had never seen the women appear so broken. Even when Furry had died. He had thought that the extremes of her emotions, but once again, the red head clinging on to him had proved him wrong._

**_"You're gonna save me from myself._**

**_I know it's hard, it's hard._**

**_But you've broken all my walls. _**

**_You've been my strength, so strong."_**

Bruce sat, slightly slouched in his chair. Yep, there was no doubt about it. The words that his friend made sound throughout the room, was definitely meant for his other friend sitting next to him, currently blushing, but unable to tear his eyes away from his seducer. When had this happened? He watched as the woman continued to move her body in ways, that he was sure would make a good private strip tease for the soldier at some point down the line. Everyone else in the place had started to throw out an occasional whistle and woot. Even Maria threw in a "Woooo, get him girl," realizing from the look on the Super Soldier's face that her friend was likely very close to doing something that most of the women, if not all, at their former place of employment had only hoped and prayed to do.

Tony looked around at the looks on everyone's faces at the table. Everyone had grins on their faces, Sam giving Steve a nudge, but the man never took his eyes away from the woman on stage. Oh, he could not wait to get on them about this. He would wait though, as it seemed the captain might have a very eventful night ahead of him.

_**"And don't ask me why I love you.**_

_**It's obvious you're tenderness is what I need to make me,**_

_**a better woman, to myself."**_

Clint let out a strong "Ha," as the woman began to close the song. But then the smile on his face transformed into a look of confusion. Had she just said she loved him. No. It was a song right? Natasha didn't fall in love. She didn't love, she respected and she repaid favors. It was just the song. A sly smile came to his face, as he tilted his head to the side, trying to decipher his friend. He could not wait to get her alone later. Before he could ponder any further what was actually going on with his friend, he heard the last note of the song and saw his friend making quickly for the exit, throwing a glance at Steve before disappearing into the night.

She was running. He already had his questions answered, well, some of them anyways.

'What is wrong with you Romanoff? What the hell is wrong with you?' she scolded as she made her way out of the alley and back towards the street.

She subconsciously folded her arms around herself, trying to draw some warmth as the temperature had dropped, considerably since their arrival to the club.

She didn't do this, this was not her thing. 'Get it together, Natasha,' she tried to recoup, but truth be told she had just scared the hell out of herself. She knew that she had just basically told Steve she loved him, technically. But that was a song, she could care less about that. What actually caused her to look for an immediate escape route were the feelings that she finally acknowledged in that moment.

She sang the song, and she meant every word. She had gotten caught up in her emotions, and as the word love broke from her lips and she stared into his crystal blue eyes, she couldn't help the swell of feelings that spread from her chest throughout her being. The little voice in her head had broken through again, and informed her in a warm and kind manner, "You do love him. Natasha, you're in love with him."

And while that little voice was rejoicing, the rest of her brain was sending off warning signals to run, and run she did.

* * *

"Well, that was Natasha with Save Me From Myself," the master of ceremonies announced, as the crowed continued to clap and cheer. "Riveting wasn't she?"

Steve continued to stare at the door through which she had disappeared, everyone else at the table quiet.

"Steve," Maria was the first to speak, calling his attention to her. And with a smile, she continued, "Don't just sit there. Go after her."

Steve opened his mouth to say something, but words escaped him, and he just looked back towards the door.

"Let me put it this way," Tony said, "if you don't go after her, you are never allowed back into my tower, any of my homes, or cars, any of my fundraisers, and," he paused for dramatic effect, "we are revoking your man card. You can keep the avengers cards, none of us is as coordinated at you. Well maybe Bruce, but you know," he paused before growling.

Steve just looked around the table. Sam, grinning and nodding his head. Bruce just gave him a look that said he agreed with everyone else.

He looked back towards the door, and before his nerves could stop him. He stood and headed for the door Natasha had just exited through.

* * *

A/N: So, tell me what you guys think? What do you think should happen from here. Maybe one of your suggestions will spark an idea. I'm just starting to get back into writing, so hopefully it'll get better as this goes along.

Song Credit: Christina Augilera "Save Me From Myself"


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Okay, here's the next part.

* * *

She sipped slowly from the glass in her hand, consuming its liquid contents entirely before holding the glass with the remaining ice to her forehead. She stares blankly at a spot on the lower wall across from her. She found herself just blotting out mentally, not really contemplating anything. She had been thinking earlier. Thoughts flooded her head of the night's earlier events, and she tried to fight them off. She couldn't on her own but she new just the friend to help her. Jack Daniels, another friend who never let her down, though he sometimes made things a little worse the next morning, he always accomplished his goal of numbing. And he, combined with Tony's expensive whiskey from the cabaret, had her in a better place now than she had been since deciding to put on that stupid show. She closed her eyes and willed away the thoughts that were trying to emerge once again letting Jack take over.

She readjusted her body, leaning back and putting her feet on the edge of the arm chair she was currently setting in. She reached for the bottle on the table next to the chair, pouring another glass, and emptying the bottle. She let out a thoughtful, 'Hmph,' after realizing she would have to seek out another bottle of something soon to keep her at a steady state of inebriation. She just didn't know if that would entail her leaving his apartment, because she could not, for the life of her, remember if she had stashed anymore bottles at alcohol at Steve's place.

'It must suck to not be able to get drunk,' she thought to herself. She couldn't imagine a life without the wonderful numbing effects of alcohol. She was no alcoholic by a long shot, she could handle her alcohol just fine. She didn't even drink daily, but every once in a while, things like this happened and she needed it to blunt her emotions. By medical terms, she was an abuser, but not dependent. And she would take that title any day. If abusing alcohol meant using it to get rid of unwanted feelings, she would gladly own up to that rather than be forced to deal with her unwanted emotions. Emotions that scared the shit out of her.

'You're thinking again Romanoff,' the voice said, so she bought the glass to her lips and downed the contents in one long gulp. She liked this voice. It was like a median between that scary voice that hated her, and that annoying voice that always wanted to feel everything. This voice was the voice that calmed her and guided her to figure out things on crazy nights like tonight. 'We're losing it Romanoff, we're losing it. Find some alcohol, quick.' She smiled at the voice, the thoughts that had run through her head. She was a lost cost, but she had known that a long time ago and had come to terms with that. But he didn't feel that way, and was trying to get her to change her views on the subject. But it was hard changing your view on something not exactly positive about yourself that you had already learned to accept.

She had just started contemplating if she was going to search his apartment for a bottle of vodka she was pretty sure she had left there, at least she thought she was pretty sure. It was kind of hard to be certain about things at this point during her conversation with Jack. Her head snapped suddenly towards the entrance of the living room as she heard keys jingling and the door knob being manipulated.

'Oh boy.' She was happy that she was on the verge of complete drunkness. That had been her plan with coming to his apartment. She knew that she couldn't avoid him forever, well, she probably could, but it was not a very good option seeing as how he was an ally, and she didn't know at what point she would be needing his help again. So she had opted to hide at his place. Not the most remote place, but not obvious enough, seeing as she was running from him, that it wouldn't give her enough time to consume a good amount of alcohol before he found her. It was better to get drunk and wait for him at his place than to avoid him and try to time when she would run into him so she could be drunk. She would likely be drunk all the time trying to do that.

* * *

He had searched everywhere for her. Tony's tower, nope not there. A couple of bars he knew she liked, nada. Her place, nope, too obvious. Then he had walked around the city, pondering where else she could be. He started to check Clint's old place, but thought better of it since the archer had apparently been crashing in the vents of Tony's tower for the last few months. Then it hit him, of course he thought. He knew exactly where she was. He quickly made his way back to his apartment hoping that the woman was still conscious. He knew he head not found all of the alcohol she had stashed at his place, but he had thrown out a good amount of what he had found. He reached his apartment building just as his phone rung. He looked at it and saw that it was Sam.

"Yeah, Sam?" he answered.

"Whoa, didn't expect you to answer," the man on the other end said. "Guess that means you didn't find her."

"No," he said looking up at his building, "I know exactly where she is."

"Well, don't let me hold anything up. Have fun."

Steve laughed shortly. What did they think was about to happen. "Bye Sam."

He hung up the phone before taking a deep breath and heading into the building. By the time he reached the door to his apartment, he noticed his heart rate had sped up a little. Did he even know what was about to happen? He knew himself and he knew Natasha. He hadn't really thought of it much prior to tonight, though he had thought about it some. He could see himself with someone like her, if only she would allow her true self to come through and stop trying to be this weird emotionless machine that the red room had manufactured and she still thought that she had no control over breaking free from. He sighed to himself. He was scared as hell, and really didn't want to have this conversation, but he knew they had to. Whatever was about to happen, they would both have a lot to think about by the end of it. He took a deep breath before sliding the key into the lock and opening the door.

He flipped on the table lamp next to the door as the apartment was pitch black. He looked down the hallway to see if he could find any sign of her, but nothing. He turned to his right and noticed the glare of the moon shining brightly onto the carpet. He hadn't left his curtains open. He walked slowly towards the open doorway, readying himself for what he was about to find, because he really didn't know what he was about to fine. The woman was a loose cannon when it came to dealing with emotions. He didn't know if to hope that she would be passed out or not as that would give him a valid excuse to put the conversation off until later.

He walked through the doorway and immediately turned to the arm chair against the wall to the left of him. She turned to him, emerald green eyes staring at him with nervous anticipation. His eyes quickly darted to the side table and he noticed the empty alcohol bottle, and returned his gaze back to her with a half disappointed look as he already expected it. They stared at each other for a few more seconds before she scoffed and placed her head on her arm turning away from him, as if annoyed.

"Don't look at me like that Rogers?" she told him.

Then suddenly he felt himself becoming frustrated. It was crazy, he thought, how this woman could flip a switch in him so easily without even trying.

"What the hell was that?" he asked her, allowing some of his own feelings to show.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she tried drowsily, not bothering turning to face him.

"Don't give me that Natasha," he was not going to let her wiggle her way out of this one. He wanted and needed answers as he was starting to have questions that he was not aware he cared much about until now. "You know just what I'm talking about."

She didn't answer. He went over and took the glass from her hand before grabbing her by her elbow and pulling her into a standing position. Unstable with the sudden change of positioning she leaned into him before pulling her arm from his grasp and pushing him away.

He allowed himself to step back once, suddenly feeling a little guilty about invading her space so aggressively. But hell, she was in his apartment, and he was pretty sure she hadn't used the key he had given her for emergencies. That would have been too easy.

She glared up at him with all the anger she could muster, though it was mostly not directed towards him. Then he said those dreaded words.

"We need to talk."

She glared at him a little longer, hoping that he would break. She could tell he was a little upset too so she was hoping to re-evoke those feeling in him so they could fight instead of...talking. But to no avail, he kept his cool and his need to talk persisted. She sighed loudly in defeat.

"Look, can we just," she was seriously not in a mood to talk at the moment, "can we just do this tomorrow?" Her plan had been to get out of talking to him, but since that was not the case, she would rather do the talking sober than drunk. Though she was pretty sure she stood an equally good chance of screwing it up either way for different reasons.

Not waiting for an answer, she pushed past him, heading towards his bedroom. Again she felt his hand on her arm, and was once again face to face with the soldier. He looked at her intently, and she blinked defeated.

"Steve, please. I'm exhausted." Her free hand went reassuringly to his chest. "I promise." She really was resigned to talk to him, like she had said, it had to be done sooner or later. And she was pretty sure if she could just get a good night's sleep, she would be able to rebuild her walls enough to get out of whatever the hell was happening.

Reluctantly, he released her and watched as her figured retreated into the darkness of his bedroom. He hesitated before following.

When he did reach the threshold of his bedroom a smile came to his face as he watched the spy, fumble clumsily about the room ridding herself of her black tights before heading over to his dressers. She fumbled through his T-shirt drawer, effectively disrupting the nice organized pattern he had made, before pulling out an old army T-shirt. It was almost comical watching her maneuver drunkenly about the room. He was almost certain that if it were most other women, she would just look like a drunk bro after a hard night of drinking with the fellas. But, being the woman that she is, just about everything she did varied on a spectrum from adorably cute to outlandishly sexy. That was if it didn't veer off course onto the spectrum of infuriating. At least for him that's how he saw her. She tossed the shirt onto the bed then walked over to him and turned around.

"Zip," she instructed. He complied.

He did not however expect her to strip down into her black laced bra and panties right in front of him.

"Natasha," he groaned as a warning to try and stop her, but she continued.

"Oh, get over it, Rogers," she slurred back at him before, kicking the dress to the side and pulling the shirt over her head. "It's not like you've never seen a piece of ass before." He closed his eyes and looked up at the ceiling shaking his head in regret. He knew he should never have told her about his sexual encounter with the USO girl that one time.

She slid onto his bed with a groan, and laid there a few seconds, face buried into his comforter, before she manipulated her way under his sheets, again giving him a glimpse of the lace she wore around her bottom.

He shook his head again before slowly walking into the room and grabbing some sweats and one of the now crumpled up t-shirts out of the drawer and retreating into the bathroom. He heard a drunken, 'Aww man,' from the woman in his bed and couldn't help but smile as he closed the door. A short time later he returned and slid into the other side of the bed.

She was lying on her side, facing him, with her eyes closed. He turned to his side and just stared at her.

She did not open her eyes as she spoke. "Steve, stop staring at me. I'm trying to sleep."

Really. She was in his apartment, in his bed, in his T-shirt, none of which he had invited her to, but none which he was willing to kick her out of either.

"How am I..." he started but she cut him off.

"I'm a spy," she told him. "And I would be a real shitty one if I didn't know when someone was watching me."

So he just turned his back to her and closed his eyes. And less than two minutes later he felt her weight shifting behind him. He then felt her arm slide under his, wrapping around his torso and her leg came to casually rest across his hip. He instinctively starting messaging her calf as he smiled to himself.

One thing had happened over the past year was that Natasha Romanoff, international spy, master assassin, seductress, and all around bad ass could no longer fall asleep while lying next to Steve Rogers without having some type of bodily contact with him.

He could tell she was not asleep as he continued to caress the calf draped carelessly across his midsection. She was thinking, and so was he. What would this bring for them, if they did decide to pursue something more than a friendship. They had been through a lot together as friends, and he was pretty sure they could manage anything as long as they were together. But a more intimate relationship could quite possibly be the very thing that would tear them apart. They were two lonely, broken people who had shut out the world in order to keep together the remaining peaces of themselves that hadn't already fractured into dust and gotten blown away in the wind. But for some reason they had become different with each other. They had let each other in.

Then suddenly, she broke the silence. "Why does it hurt so much?" She spoke solemnly and defeated, almost on the verge of tears, he could tell.

He knew she wasn't talking about anything specific, but was talking about everything. She was talking about life. His heart broke just thinking about the pain the woman lying pressed up against him had endured without adequate time or resources to grieve. Grieve for her parents, the few friends she had made, and for herself.

He put his hand over her hand that was currently resting on his chest and brought it up to his mouth, placing a soft tender kiss into her palm. She nuzzled into the back of his neck, drawing her front even more firmly against his back.

She then mumbled. "And why do you seem to be the only one that can make it better?"

His eyes opened a little bit wider as he contemplated her question. He had thought that the peeling back of emotional layers were done for the night. He expected her to continue to try to retreat back into herself and shut him out again laughing off whatever had happened earlier, but she had proven him and herself wrong with her latest confession. He turned slowly in her arms, his hand keeping her leg wrapped around his midsection, before reaching up to brush some of her curls out of her face. He could see the redness in her eyes and her wet eyelashes, but being as stubborn as she is, she refuses to let a tear fall.

She continued to look up at him with questioning eyes. He could tell, she was panicking and trying to avoid a break down. Not the type of break down like the ones he usually comforted her through, but the kind of break down where you realize that you had just barely survived an ordeal and now life was going to throw something completely different and just as challenging at you before you had a chance to take a good breath.

He placed a quick kiss on her forehead, before pulling back and looking into her eyes, and then doing the same to her nose.

His eyes darted to her lips and then back to her eyes. Her eyebrows furrowed and he felt her fingers gripping the front of his shirt, preparing herself for whatever was about to come and also welcoming it in a way.

He leaned forward slowly, his eyes flickering between her lips and eyes, looking for any sign of encouragement or rejection. Her lips parted slightly and he felt her inhale sharply. And so he went for it, lightly pressing his lips to hers. She didn't pull back so he deepened the kiss, pressing his palm into her back, pulling her closer to him. She released the breath she had been holding and brought her hand to the back of his head, threading her fingers through the short strands of hair, deepening the kiss even more.

They continued on like that for a few minutes, heavy breathing and soft moans echoing throughout the otherwise silent room, each of them fighting and grasping desperately to get control of the emotions they were feeling, but also a little hint of an effort to gain dominance. They couldn't help it, it was who they were. They had kissed before, having spent so much time together and sharing so much pain, anger, and fear. It was inevitable he thought. But those kisses had been nothing like this. Caught up in the moment he found himself squeezing her bottom after she gave a quick nip to his bottom lip, causing her to moan and smile against his lips.

The heavy make out session gradually died down, turning into sensual little nips and pecks. He again kissed her on her nose and she gave him a coy smile before tucking her head under his chin and closing her eyes, finally settling in for the night.

They definitely had a lot to talk about.

* * *

A/N: Probably going to keep adding to this until I run out of ideas or I find a satisfying end to it. Again reviews are welcomed. Still trying to figure out exactly where this is going and how it's going to get there.


	3. Chapter 3

Her senses slowly began to come back to her as she drifted out of the fog of sleep. She was surrounded by comfortable softness. She began stretching out slowly feeling her muscles starting to awaken and the cool sheets against her skin. She knew she wasn't in her own bed, and her instinctive initial reaction to that would have been to pop out of bed into a fighting stance while counting the number of instruments within the vicinity that she could convert into a weapon. She would have done that had her senses not been as observant as they were and familiar with the information they were receiving as they had become. With her eyes still closed, she inhaled deeply the scent she had grown to know as super soldier, before letting out something between a sigh and a moan. Being that their was only one super soldier, and she doubted that the scent would be as soothing to her if in fact there was more than one, she concluded that she was in Steve's apartment. She reached out to the left of her and found the other side to be cool and vacant, this would have caused her to search for him mentally had she not heard the soft sounds of the radio coming from somewhere outside the bedroom, along with the faint shufflings of someone moving about the apartment. She smiled to herself as she heard the sound of slow, heavy rain drops starting to hit against the window behind her. Good, now she had no incentive to leave her current spot. She had grown to love rainy days over the past year. Her entire life, she had been taught that from the time she woke in the morning it was all business until she earned the luxury of sleep again. That was when she was still back in Russia, and though Clint and her rare off days while working with SHIELD had made her appreciate the value of personal time a little more, it wasn't until the past year when there was no more SHIELD and no scheduled business for her to tend to that she was able to fully learn the benefits of just staying in and not doing anything. Though accepting this lesson had caused her a lot of grief in the beginning, rainy days helped her accept her laziness a little more. Of course Steve had helped her with that also, after telling her that she worked too much. She had responded with an incredulous look and told him that that was a bold comment coming from the ninety five year old that still did everything on military time including go to the bathroom even though he had been out of the military technically for the past seventy years. He had laughed and told her that they would conquer the task of descheduling their lives together, and they had been successful, thankfully. She hadn't known what she had been missing. She was still all business when it was time for business, but when their was no business and especially on a rainy day with no business, she was pretty sure she could battle for the title of laziest spy. Yup, she was going to stay right...

The smell slowly wafting from the outside of the bedroom finally made it's way to her nose, pulling her out of her thoughts. Okay, so maybe she would grab some of Steve's tasty breakfast and then take up residence on the couch for the rest of the day. She stretched out in the bed once more, rolling from her stomach to her back and opened her eyes for the first time, staring up at the ceiling. She sighed before forcing herself to sit up and scooted over to Steve's side of the bed and threw her legs over the side before standing and padding out of the room and into the bathroom.

She slipped out of the bathroom after brushing her teeth in preparation for the small feast she was about to devour, the over sized T shirt falling off of her left shoulder . She decided against readjusting it, knowing that it was a hopeless fix. She could tell by the chill in the air that it had grown considerably cooler throughout the night, but there was still a warmth inside of the apartment, she assumed in part due to the heat coming from the kitchen. All the curtains were open illuminating the apartment in an apathetic gloominess. She smiled, it was a very ugly, rainy day. The best kind.

It wasn't until she saw the man standing at the small island in the the kitchen with a mixing bowl and whisk in hand that she gave pause. Suddenly the events of the night before came rushing back to her.

'We need to talk,' she remembered him saying. Her mouth fell open to reply in rebuttal but she realized that he had not actually said anything at that current moment, and hadn't even noticed her presence at the arched entrance of the kitchen.

"Are you just going to stand there with your mouth hanging open?" he asked with a smile before looking up at her.

Okay, so maybe he had noticed her.

He could tell by the look on her face that she was scrambling, which surprised him. He expected her to come in with a well thought out excuse for why she had to leave and couldn't talk at the moment, or why he shouldn't take seriously what had happened last night, or at the very least climb out of his window while he wasn't looking. But she hadn't, that had to count for something right? He took in the sight of her from head to toe, from her perfectly manicured toes to her tousled red curls. She was beautiful, as always, especially with his T shirt hanging loosely from her frame.

She was going to say something again but she was to busy reprimanding herself mentally for not remembering this earlier. She could have at least come up with a plan to extricate herself from the situation, or an excuse for her actions seeing as she wasn't exactly keen on leaving this breakfast bar to trek across the city in the rain to her place.

She realized that she was still staring at him and had not said anything as he sat the bowl down and pressed both of his palms to the surface of the island bar as if inspecting her closer. The corners of his mouth quirked upwards a little more and her first instinct was to throw a knife at him for so easily seeing past the walls she was so desperately trying to build. Seeing as though she could feel the only thing attached to her body under the T shirt was her underwear, she would have to forgo the idea of using him as target practice.

"Com'on," he told her as he picked up the bowl again. "Have a seat. We've got lots to discuss."

Her eyes narrowed at him, causing him to smile again. "You don't intimidate me." He turned towards the stove. "Plus I can see you drooling from here."

"What are you trying to do, Captain?" she questioned playfully as she sauntered over to the breakfast bar, taking a seat on one of the stools.

"Feed you," he replied, honestly. "I figured you actually managed to consume more alcohol than food yesterday. Which, you were actually doing pretty good until that mad dash at the end of the night."

She rolled here eyes mentally. He constantly tried to chastise her for not taking better care of herself, and she had to admit, there was one point with this whole dealing with the destruction of her life as she knew it that she had really gone for broke with the lack of an appetite. And he had even taken her to the hospital once for dehydration, after which he had taken to monitoring her a little more closely.

"I've told you," she started, picking up the glass of orange juice he had placed in front of her, "you're not my father."

She took a sip from the glass before pushing it back towards him. "It needs vodka?" She tested.

"Natasha," he warned.

"What? It's called a mimosa, a popular breakfast drink by the way," she wrongly tried to inform him.

"Umm, no," he told her as he took the pancakes from the pan and placed them on one of the plates on the counter, "that's called a screw driver, a popular partying drink."

"Oh," she laughed, "look at you. Guess you finally got that internet thing down huh?"

He gave her a look and she smiled playfully at him as she brought the glass back up to her lips.

"So about last night," he started, erasing her smile.

"What about last night?" she answered nonchalantly as she began digging into the pancakes that she had placed on her plate.

He gave her a smile that said nice try, before continuing. "There is only one thing that I know of that can make you retreat like that, especially without firing back."

"Mmm," she said placing a forkful of eggs in her mouth. "And whats that?"

He slide the plate away from her making her look up at him. She almost jumped back off of the stool she was sitting on when realizing that his face was only inches from hers.

"Natasha one thing you are not, is stupid. And you never underestimate the intelligence of the person you're trying to defend yourself against, so save both of us the time and stop beating around the bush with this and tell me what you're thinking."

She swallowed hard, and licked her lips, causing his eyes to flicker momentarily down to them but he refrained from kissing her. He had eventually caught up with the times on kissing, well at least kissing _her_ anyway. It was hard not to when you were spending the majority of your time with a woman whose weapon of choice was kissing. She realized that he had been really put off by public displays and just overly physical contact with a woman he wasn't even dating less known married to. She would always say, 'Steve if you don't do this, then I'm going to kiss you. Right here, right now.' He had had no other choice but to get comfortable with kissing her or else be resigned to comply to her every whim. He had even grown to like it and he still remembered the look on her face the first time he had initiated the kiss. It was the first time he had seen her flushed after kissing him. But she only replied with a curt nod and an 'okay', before pressing her lips back to his. Bottom line, they made out a lot, they both enjoyed it, though they never let anyone from their team see. God forbid Tony or Clint found out. But neither of them realized that something more was brewing behind it until the night before.

She cleared her throat, drawing his eyes back up to hers. He almost felt sorry for her, the lost look in her eyes. It was like seeing someone drowning, but refusing to grab the safety rope because they had been tortured while being tied with that exact same rope. Her next question was genuine, and he saw her actually consider grasping onto the rope, as she frantically searched his eyes for conformation that it was okay.

"Wh-what do you want me to do?" she stuttered.

He looked down at her as her eyes continued to search his, for what he didn't know. But he did know that he had better chose his next words very carefully. It kinda saddened him though that when he had challenged her on this she had fallen into character of the perfect little spy. She had reverted back to what she had been taught on this subject, the perfect weapon, ready to follow the path of whichever one of her buttons were activated. He didn't want to have this conversation with that person. He wanted to talk to Natasha, the woman that he had actually gotten the pleasure of meeting and getting to know.

He leaned in a little closer before replying. "I want you to finally break free from them. That's what I want. They've been controlling you just about your entire life, even after you got away from them, twice," he added. "You still won't let yourself experience the happiness that you deserve, just because they told you that you didn't deserve it. I want you to not be afraid Natasha, because they were lying to you. Be the bad ass that you claim to be and show them that you are not afraid of anything, including them and the things that they actually taught you to fear." Her brows furrowed as she continued to stare intently at him, as if his words were cutting her, at least that's what it felt like. Not a bad cutting. The type of cutting she used to do when she was younger and still being trained to become the black widow. The cutting she did when she felt so numb she just wanted to feel something even if it was pain. The cuts would leave her skin tingling and a serene coolness would wash over the areas where she had inflicted the wounds. She felt tears coming to her eyes. Fuck Hydra and fuck KGB. Fuck corrupt SHIELD. Fuck Captain America for getting under her skin an knowing just where to hit her to break her.

"I want you to allow yourself to be happy. Now whether that's with me or someone else, I don't know, but just find a way to the happiness you keep lying and telling yourself that you don't want. Conquer them, and show them that you were even stronger than they thought, stronger than them, and that they couldn't break you."

She hadn't even noticed the tear that was sliding down her cheek until she felt the calloused pad of his thumb wipe it away.

Who the hell did he think he was. She was pissed at him. She wanted to yell at him and throw things and tell him how he had a fucked up view of the world and not everything was all stars and beautiful fourth of July fire works, but she knew that he already knew that. She just didn't understand why he insisted on pulling her along for the ride to find happiness and stability again. And even though she had every intention of yelling at him and sticking the large knife lying on the counter next to his hand between his fingers as a warning shot to leave her and her screwed up feelings alone, she found an unfamiliar voice emanating from her throat.

"Okay," she replied shakily, and mentally cursed her self. 'What the fuck was that?' she heard the mean voice say. The annoying voice was quiet and she pictured it sitting in a corner of her mind with its hands clasped together joyously with a goofy smile at the sight it was witnessing.

"Okay?" he questioned, the smile returning to his face. She nodded. "Okay," he confirmed, one of his hands tangling itself in her hair as his lips softly pressed against hers. The kiss started out slow and sensual, then he felt her smile against his lips before managing to crawl on top of the counter without knocking over all of the food, and eliminating the space of the island bar between them. Soon he felt her smaller frame pressing into his as her small hands framed his face, allowing her to press her lips more firmly to his and gain a little more control in their current tongue wrestling match.

He had faintly herd a knocking but hadn't payed much notice to it until he heard the voices of their two friends from the other side of the front door.

"Com'on man," he heard Sam yell, "we're starving. You invited us over here for breakfast and now you're going to leave us locked out."

"Yeah, Steve," Clint's voice followed, "we can smell the food out here. We're trying to be courteous and use the front door."

Natasha suddenly pulled away from the kiss and hopped down off of the counter, before beginning to pile more food onto her plate.

He laughed at her before making his way to the door to let the two men on the other side in. He opened the door to see two less than pleased faces.

"What the hell took you so long?" Clint asked getting a better whiff of the food.

"Yeah man," Sam added in a somewhat hushed tone "I told you if you and Natasha were busy, we could catch up later."

"No it's fine," he reassured them. He was about to the step to the side to let them in, but Clint's brow suddenly furrowed as he peered past Steve into the apartment.

Steve turned to see what he was looking at allowing himself and Sam a better view of Natasha trying to sneak back through the living room with a pile of food, a guilty look on her face as she stopped chewing on whatever piece of food she had in her mouth.

"Hi, guys," she said innocently enough. She than continued to walk into the living room

"Damn it Nat," Clint said rushing pass Steve, "you're not going to eat all of that."

"Yes I am," he heard the red head retort as Sam walked passed him mumbling something about Natasha taking all of the food.

Steve laughed, even though the two men had extremely bad timing, he was sure he was in for an entertaining day in with the three people currently fighting over his food in his living room. He closed the door and locked it.

"Let go bird boy," he heard Natasha say, not sure which man she was referring to, "I was here first, I get first dibs."

Steve opted to go to the kitchen to finish cooking the rest of the food before things got too out of hand.

* * *

A/N: Alright that's the third part. What doofus think? Plus let me know what you guys think should happen. Like I said before this originally started as a one shot, and though I kinda know where I wanna take it, I wanna hear some filler suggestions from you guys.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Okay, so here's the next part. Hopefully things pick up a little after this chapter.

* * *

She strutted down the cold wet street, her gray and blue sneakers striking the pavement confidently, not letting on to the turmoil that was going on inside of her her. The sun had set less than an hour ago on the rainy fall day, and the sky still threatened to cause another downfall at any moment. She didn't pay much mind to the bleakness of the actual world around her though, as it was no match for the world she was creating in her own head at the moment.

_Sam and Clint's breakfast visited had turned out to be one that lasted into the late afternoon. Steve had finished cooking the rest of the food causing the other two men to leave her to the food she had confiscated just prior to their arrival. She ended up not eating it all, though she ate most of it and ending up sliding the rest of it onto Steve's plate. They all then gathered in the small, cozy living room. She hadn't realized how the smaller apartment offered more of a forced bonding compared to Stark's places. The only time she had been in a space this small she was either alone at her place, at her place with Clint, at Clint's place with him, at Sam's place with Steve, or just her and Steve at one of their places. She had never really paid much attention to it until now, probably because she rarely shared such a small space with more than one other person, other than for a mission. She liked it, being in a enclosed space with people she cared about. It made her feel safe and connected._

_She had gotten out of the shower to find Sam sitting in the chair nearest to the entrance of the living room, Clint on the opposite side of the room perched on a spot on the floor, his back resting against the other arm chair, and the large plush throw rug she had made Steve buy providing cushioning against the light wood floors. Steve was stretched out on the couch. None of them seemed to notice her presence as they were all staring intently at the television, Steve with a perplexed look on his face. She turned to the television and smiled to herself when she saw Sharon Stone on the screen and instantly realized the movie as Basic Instinct. She couldn't not help the short laugh that escaped her. 'Men,' she thought to herself, though appreciatively. Had it not been for that part of the male brain that turned them into complete idiots every time they saw an attractive woman, it would have made it slightly more difficult to be as effective at the job she used to have. But only slightly more difficult._

_"Hey," Steve said looking up at her as she walked over to the couch where he was, Sam and Clint's eyes still glued to the television._

_She plopped down on the couch next to him, remembering her promise she had made to herself after rolling out of bed. "Hey yourself," she replied, giving him a knowing look that made him blush. Her smile widened. He was such a goody two shoes. He was theoretically almost thirty years old, and here he was blushing like a thirteen year old who's mother had just caught him watching a dirty movie._

_She had stretched out next to him on the couch, absent-mindedly fitting the curves of her small frame into the contour of his larger, muscular one. His arm instinctively came around her, securing her onto the couch as he took up the majority of the space they were both trying to fit onto. She instantly relaxed at they had done this so many times before. She wasn't even thinking about the events that had taken place the night before and earlier that morning. All she knew was that she was warm, secure, and happy, and she couldn't think of any other place she would rather be at that moment._

_"Have they gotten to the infamous leg crossing screen?" she smiled as she instantly heard the other two men protest._

_"Stop ruining the movie for him," Sam told her as she heard Clint's, "Geez Nat, shut up!" the two men finally turning to acknowledge her presence._

_She laughed again at their reaction. They were like the little boys who had discovered the dirty movie and now wanted to have the pleasure of showing their best friend and seeing his surprised reaction. She had worried that she would be the one to defile the pure captain, but the rest of the guys were giving her a run for her money.  
_

_She started laughing harder when Steve innocently asked from behind her, "What leg crossing scene?"_

_"Nothing," Clint reassured him. "Just, watch the movie."_

_Steve sighed, being one of those people who didn't like the movie spoiled for him, and pulled her closer as they settled further into the couch._

_They had finished Basic Instinct with a few laughs from Natasha with Steve letting out small gasps behind her at certain scenes and Clint and Sam behaving middle schoolers. One of them had some how found a copy of American Graffiti on DVD. She was sure she had been the first to fall asleep as she could remember the warm haze of sleep overtaking her while the three voices in the room became muffled back ground noise. The next thing she remembered was someone standing over them telling Steve they were going to head out, she opened her eyes to see Sam before closing them back and turning to bury her face in Steve's neck, causing her not to see the amused grin Sam threw Steve's way before telling him he didn't have to worry about getting up and that he would lock the door behind them. _

* * *

_He smiled as he felt her head fall against his chest with a soft thud, a small pout on her face momentarily before her breathing almost instantly evened out again. He couldn't help the smile that came to his face. One thing about the infamous spy, she did everything full force, including sleeping in. Though he was sure this started only after they became unemployed._

_"Alright man, see you later," he nodded at the two men exiting out of his apartment. He grabbed the remote and flipped the television off as he heard the front door of his apartment close follow by the clicking of the lock. _

_He looked down at the red head in his arms and couldn't help but to smile again. It all felt perfect, he was finally beginning to have hope again for a future he thought had been stripped from him years ago. Now only if he could figure out just exactly what the hell was going on between them._

_He placed a chaste kiss on her forehead before resting his head back on the throw pillow they were sharing, falling back to sleep himself, within minutes. _

* * *

_She had no idea how long she had been asleep but the next time her eyes fluttered open she could clearly see the dim skies that had lasted throughout the day had become even darker, indicating it was almost night. The next thought that registered in her mind after realizing where she was was that she had to go to the bathroom. She started to extricate herself from the limbs of the soldier causing him to hold on tighter. She looked at his face, he was still asleep. She tried again, but he only held on tighter, this time a smile appearing on his face._

_"Steve," she warned him, letting him know she knew he was awake. _

_His smile only grew wider, causing a smile to come to her face. She stared at him for a while, imagining what it would be like to just let go and give in to her feelings for him. For a moment, she allowed the image of a future with him to flow through her head. She imagined not having to leave, not having the option of going back to her own apartment because she didn't have an apartment. Her home was wherever he was. Him and her against the world. She wasn't alone anymore, and she was happy. She was completely and utterly at peace with her life because she had him, and she knew that he would be there for her, no matter what. _

_Then without warning, her muscles tensed as that mean voice echoed various insults that had been spat at her while she was still a teenager back in the red room. He must have felt her suddenly go rigid in his arms, because his eyes popped open and the smile was gone. _

_Sensing that she was spiraling towards a fit of panic and he was drifting towards a spiral to try to catch her she forced a smile to her face and did her best to relax her muscles. "I have to pee," she told him, causing his smile to appear again. No matter how much he pretended to like the dainty type, he had grown to love the tom boyish, genuine crudeness that was Natasha Romanoff. _

_He sighed and allowed her to crawl from his arms. She went into his room and straight to the bathroom as the panic started to set in again. By the time she exited the bathroom she had reached escape mode. She opened the bedroom door, happy to see he had fallen back to sleep. She went back to the closet and grabbed a pair of sneakers she had left there, opting to leave her dress and heels and silently slipped through the living room. She looked back when she reached the entrance and debated climbing back onto the couch and into his arms , allowing herself a chance at the vision that had previously flashed through her mind, but ultimately opted against it._

_'That is not who you are Natalia,' the bad voice told her in a firm even manner. 'You cannot be what he needs or wants you to be.'_

_She nodded slightly as if accepting what she had just told herself before standing up a little straighter and leaving out of the apartment, this time not looking back._

It wasn't until she had made it half way to her place that the other voice had managed to break through causing conflict with the first voice in her head, leading her on the current path she was making through the city.

'I really should see a shrink,' she heard a voice that sounded more like herself, after realizing that there were two different people arguing in her head for the last ten minutes.

She stopped in front of a red brick building that was a little nicer than the building Steve lived in. She made her way inside just as the rain started to fall a little harder, and climbed the stairs up to the second floor. She took a left and went down to the fourth door on the right, before knocking.

She could hear the faint sounds of the television coming from inside, but no one came to answer the door. She knocked again, this time a little harder.

Finally she heard foot steps coming towards the door. She heard the latch to the peep hole lift before she heard the locks being undone. The door opened and she was met by her brunette friend.

Maria took the woman in from head to toe. The clothes she wore looked like someone and hit her with a shrink ray, and she didn't miss the small U.S Army seal on the upper thigh of the left leg of the sweat pants. She also wore a gray hoodie that swallowed her, with a navy blue hood over her head signifying that she might actually have a piece of her own clothing underneath the heap of over sized clothes she had wrapped herself in.

Maria opened her mouth, she was about to ask the red head what she had done, but having had experience dealing with the emotionally messed up beings that the world had come to know as the Avengers and having had somewhat of a resemblance of normal healthy relationships prior to SHIELD, she knew it best not to accuse. So instead she asked, "Natasha, what happened?"

The red head looked down at the floor, as if ashamed of herself, before looking back up at Maria and replying. "I ran," she paused before adding, "again."

Maria sighed, already having an idea of what her friend was talking about and stepped aside motioning for Natasha to enter her apartment.

"Well I guess I don't have to ask who this pertains too," Maria said not looking back at her damp friend as she secured the locks on the door and walked back into the kitchen.

Natasha took a minute to discard her wet sneakers at the door and place the slightly soggy hoodie onto the coat rack before following Maria into the kitchen. As soon as she turned the corner the delicious smell hit her nose. She notice Maria looking at her Ipad as she continued to mix the ingredients on the counter.

"Mmmm, something smells good," Natasha deflected sitting down on the opposite side of the bar as Maria stood, continuing to glance at her Ipad. "What is it?"

"Some type of chicken pasta," Maria told her, "I found it on Pinterest."

Natasha opened her mouth to respond, but found herself speechless, so she laughed instead. "What?" she got out between her fits of laughter.

Maria looked up and couldn't help but to laugh herself. This was ridiculous. The were both two of the best trained agents in the American government's arsenal, hell in anybody's arsenal and here they were sitting in her kitchen on a Saturday night like a couple of normal twenty something year old women, all because SHIELD had gone down and they no longer had a job so neither of them knew what to do with themselves. To the outsider there was really nothing amusing about the obscenely normal situation, but knowing where they came from and all they had been through and their dark senses of humor, it was pretty amusing to them.

"We're pathetic," Natasha continued laughing.

Maria, realizing Natasha had managed to distract her, suddenly became more serious, though the smile remained as she still found their situation amusing.

"Yeah, me training to become the perfect little house wife and you sulking over a guy," she stated earning herself a glare from the spy as her laughter abruptly stopped. She rolled her eyes at the brunette before grabbing one of the small chocolate kisses from the candy dish on the counter.

Maria smiled as she picked up her phone which had just start to tweet like a bird signaling someone was texting her. "So, tell me. What happened?"

"Nothing," Natasha replied.

"Mmh," Maria hummed, reading the text message that indicated other wise.

She clicked on the symbol of Sams picture underlined by the words Falcon Boy: '_Hey Maria, have you seen Tasha? Steve's looking for her?'_

She started to reply but then another alert popped up. This one had a picture of Clint with the words Hawk Boy: _'Nat with you?'  
_

She sighed, shaking her head, as she began forming a group text between the two men and herself. "So you know, I don't believe you. I'm just waiting for you to decided to tell me what actually happened."

"Maria please, just let it go. I don't want to talk about it anymore."

Maria sent one more text as she set her phone down on the counter. She looked up at Natasha, "Okay fine, but just know you have to help me eat this crap since you're not spilling the deets on what happened between you and Soldier Boy.

Natasha couldn't help the smile that came to her face at the nick name they had given Steve whenever they decided to talk about how hot he was or how Maria or Pepper thought he and Natasha should hook up after learning how close they'd become since the battle in New York. They had reasoned that calling him Captain while discussing him in this manor made them feel uneasy as he was often their commanding officer while working, and calling him Steve just made them feel guilty about reducing the genuinely sweet naive man to nothing but a piece of meat. So, they had settled on Soldier Boy, a nice blend of the genuinely sweet naive man that made you want to jump his bones and the sexy, muscular, commanding Captain Rogers that made you want to jump his bones.

Maria tried again after seeing the smile on Natasha's face. "At least tell me what happened between you and him last night."

Natasha smiled again. "Nothing happened, we undressed, crawled into bed together and fell asleep, as usual."

"Well I must admit," Maria told her putting the finishing touches on the dish, "I do admire your restraint."

* * *

"What's the name of that website again?" Natasha asked as both she and Maria finished their second helping of the dish she had prepared earlier.

"Pinterest," Maria said taking both of their bowls into the kitchen. She had just placed them in the sink when she heard a knock at her front door, making her heart rate speed up. Natasha was going to kill her.

"I'll get it," Maria yelled as she went to answer the front door.

"Hey," she said only giving Steve enough time to respond with a smile and his own 'Hi' before she spoke again. "Bye."

"Where are you going?"

"You two need your privacy," she smiled at him. The truth is she just didn't want to be there when whatever went down went down. If this ended up going well, she didn't want them to feel awkward if things took a turn for her guest room, and if it went badly, well she would just rather not be there if it did.

"Umm, thanks?" Steve said.

"You're welcome," she closed the door behind her.

* * *

A/N: Soo, yeah. The rating is M starting with the next chapter. Probably should have done that last chapter with the language but, oh well. Anyway, Reviews are welcomed, and I still wanna know what you guys wanna see unless this is going to end pretty quickly. Things should hopefully start to pick up after this chapter.

What will happened next? Stay tuned...


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